My house phone rang earlier today, which usually means it's either an automated service trying to sell double glazing on my windows or it's my dad. Here is how the conversation went:

*ring ring*Me: Hello?Woman: hello, is this Lloyds Pharmacy?Me: No, sorry, you've got the wrong number.Woman: Oh? I dialled 235681, is that not right?Me: Well, I don't know what this number is but, I'm not a pharmacy so...Woman: I'm looking at the number I have written down in front of me and it's the right number I dialed?Me: Yeah, but.....I'm not a pharmacy?Woman: Right! Ok! *click*

Today, I left the stagnant comfort of my room and went to town to buy some cigarettes and something that kills ants. I'm not usually bothered by the existence of ants, they don't try and kill me so, I respond admirably with the same. However, since I've moved into my new house I've become very territorial and there are far too many ants outside. The ground is literally coated with them and there is at least 30 little holes scattered around which, isn't really a big deal, until I went out one day and the ant revolution had moved to the skies and they had begun to fly. This isn't a big deal either, some of them fly that's fine, well done, what else can you do? So, as I was saying, I didn't mind them flying or milling about on the ground but, when an ant comes into my house, up my stairs, into my room and just sits on my floor like he owns the ****ing place is when a war has been declared. I gave them the outside but no, that wasn't quite enough for the bastards. They want to take everything from me. Anyway, I bought this stuff which is like food and they take it back into the nest and it kills everyone or something. They aren't dead yet though. I'm beginning to think that maybe this 'new age' product was actually an invention of the ants themselves, like a trick to get us to go out and buy expensive sugar and throw it around the garden for them. Maybe I should just hand over my room before they trick me into sprinkling poison onto my cereal.

This blog isn't about ants, I got side tracked.

Anyway, I was in town. There was a man in a queue to use a cash machine and he was in a wheelchair. He was wearing a T-shirt that said, 'BEST OF DA BEST' on the back of it. When I first looked at it I thought about how I would never buy anything that replaced the word 'the' with the non-word 'da'. I then thought about how I would never buy something which omitted such an over-generalised, irrespective and outlandish claim. I mean, I'm fairly good at certain things but, I would never suggest that I am the best, let alone best of the best though, I'm not sure how that even changes the situation. Being the best already implies that you are better than everyone else? You can't have more than one person who is the best? Then, if you become better than someone who used to be the best, that person should no longer be refereed to as the best? So, you can't be the best of the best. Anyway, that wasn't the point, my point was how general it is. I wouldn't have minded if in smaller writing underneath it said, in brackets, at tennis or something, so I might think the T-shirt was a reward for a terrific game of tennis or something. So, as it was, it was just gibberish and foolish pride.I then thought about how he was in a wheelchair and how much of a **** I am. Wear whatever you fancy confident wheelchair man, don't mind me, I'm a bastard.

I didn't retract my thoughts because I feel like I have to tip-toe around the issue of someone being in a wheelchair. I just realised that the T-shirt was probably a form of self-therapy or a moral booster which is, fair enough to be honest. I would probably do the same but, mind would say, "Best of the best" because, I'm not a ****.

I have this bad habit which, I'm sure many of you would be 'trend-setters' share with me. I begin to hate something once it reaches a state of popularity which has inadvertently attracted children and teeny boppers unto it's following. My mind has trained itself to ignore the playful and inventive intricacies of things such as, The nightmare before Christmas. In all honesty, I quite like it, there's nothing offensive about it and it fantasises upon interesting conceptual devices, great. However, if someone were to ask me, "Hey, do you like that film, Nightmare before Christmas?". I would reply immediately, without hesitation, "no, it was utter **** and you're a prick" I would probably then walk away from this encounter with a pseudo smug sense of self-aggrandising victory, most likely smiling to myself for seemingly top-trumping someone with my projected aura of trivial superiority.

If all went well, that human would have hung his head and felt ashamed for enjoying things which are easily enjoyable instead of, like me, watching independent films about social disillusionment and culturally fluent lesbians. Granted, these films aren't funny in a way that makes you laugh or interesting in a way that makes your inner-child want to drink acid but, have you heard of them? No? Check-mate, I win.

This isn't me simply raving about Nightmare before Christmas, it wasn't that good. It pretty much has become utter **** since it became some kind of goth brand for disgusting looking bags and sweat bands. In general I think I am referring my bad habit to the hot topic nook in the corner of every HMV which currently stocks a piece of literature titled "Robsessed". I feel like it's the social equivalent of inviting clinically obese people into an all-you-can-eat-buffet. Yes, they would probably enjoy it but, they don't know what's good for them! You're not allowed to be happy if I hate or am jealous of the things that make you happy.

I am however, very away that if when Twilight was released everyone saw it for how I seem to see it and just thought, "what the **** is this? Why have they made vampires into infuriating, over dramatic ****s with hair styles and six packs?" I would probably like it, just because everyone else would hate it. It's what I do, It makes me feel edgy. I may seldom enjoy something but once it gets promoted to the culture show in HMV along side Banksy, Tim Burton, zombie based re-tellings of classic books and absolutely anything in reference to vampires, It becomes vomit and, I can't touch it. Except Twilight, that was always vomit. I'm looking forward to the finale of Twilight, Justin Bieber's first drug induced rampage, Miley Cyrus' first unplanned pregnancy scandal and Fallout New Vegas.